


And Seekers Shall Seek

by andstarswillscream



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mentions of trafficking, Power Imbalance, Seeker Trines, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/pseuds/andstarswillscream
Summary: Some nights, when the burden of living weighed upon his wings, when he was spiralling down and fast, he would let his walls slip, dangerously.





	

It began as it always did. He’d found a mech staring at him. This was not without reason. He and his kind were, truly, the most beautiful cybertronians. Adored, admired, coveted. Lusted after. Stolen. 

Sold.

Starscream had learned from experience that those with ground altmodes were not to be trusted. He would play along with their games, of course, smile and sing and show off his best sides— all of him, really— but he’d never let them trap him. He was a mech with a million plans, and all of those plans included clear routes of retreat. He would play them the way they believed they were playing him, he was no fool.

He’d hold back sneers and stares of derision as mechs reached for his body, simply ducking away from their hands with a wink, as anxiety would crawl its way up his backstrut. He would smile sweetly, and sometimes, with too many teeth, when one would imply bedding him later that night. He would giggle over jokes, give compliments that were said in such a silken, lovely voice, the fact that they were backhanded and venomous in intention would fly over their heads.

And sometimes, he would let them indulge for a night, let a mech touch his thigh, his chest. He’d sit in their lap if they played their cards right—very few did, of course.— He’d blow kisses, let them walk him home— a place previously agreed on by his trinemates as a rendezvous point.

And regrettably… some nights, when the burden of living weighed upon his wings, when he was spiralling down and fast, he would let his walls slip, dangerously. It’d begun as a one-time thing he supposed. He couldn’t remember the first mech it’d been who he’d fallen into the lap of and let fulfill their desires. It had…. evolved over time. Slowly, as it always did. A night here or there, where he’d let himself get handled, where he would beg and feel good and useful and forget who he was. It was easier to become a thing, than to accept who he was.

And then it became more common. When the war began, he sought out partners much more often from stress and his own inability to see his worth— one would never know this, looking at him. It took centuries to build up _that_ particular wall.— rumours began that he was doing it solely to get ahead. 

Skywarp had caught him a few times, and simply passed it off as Starscream having horrible taste in lovers. Thundercracker was more than aware of what it was, often pulling him aside and away from Skywarp, asking— soon begging— him to stop, to talk to them if he needed something. Starscream would always nod, with a smile, and leave in the night anyways, the noise in his processor becoming something snarling, unbearable.

Something he never wanted them to see.

When he was done, tired and mentally immersed in damage control, Thundercracker would always await his return, silent. Upset. 

Tonight was no different, he’d left once again, as soon as he knew they’d both fallen into recharge around him. He’d hooked up with one of the newer recruits, a quiet one. They’d disappeared into an empty room in the base, away from the general population.

Blunt fingers danced over wingtips, his own claws dipping into seams. His lover of the week (a generous time-frame, he supposed. Few lasted more than a couple of nights.) sighed hot air above him, a tremor rippling through him.

Starscream’s HUD lit up suddenly, as he ground his valve against the mech above him, a comm. request from Skywarp. His spark clenched, tight and painful and full of something like love, and he sucked in a quick vent, rejecting the call. It could wait, he told himself. Thundercracker was there, he would distract him.

Starscream dug those sharpened digits into the metal of wheeled shoulders, right between transformation seams, letting the throaty moan his lover made reverberate through him, from wingtip to heelthruster. The other mech slipped his spike into the soft heat of his valve, Starscream coming back to himself with a rolling purr, his hand leaving the other’s shoulder. He used it to trace the lines of the mech’s throat, sliding those claws up against his chin, tilting it down so the other would look him in the face. He kissed him, all heat and steam, HUD lighting up once more, this time, a request from Thundercracker. 

It killed him to ignore them. In apology, he sent a data package to Thundercracker— IMBUSY/ HOLDON/ILLBEHOMESOON— 

He knew they were worried, but he told himself that it would be over soon. He would return, exhausted, and sleep among them again, lulled by their presence.

Starscream’s HUD continued to light up with calls, one after the other. Thankfully, the night’s partner finished rather quickly, staring at him stupidly as he’d pulled himself away and hurried out and far from the area, before whatever was left of his dignity was lost as well. The HUD calls, if anything, had helped sober him up, and had pulled him away from the edge of whatever pit he’d been rolling towards. He had a home. He had a trine. They cared about him, wether or not he believed it was deserved.

When he returned to his quarters, both Thundercracker and Skywarp awaited him. They made soft trinecalls to him, the sound almost mournful as they looked him over, checking for injuries and missing parts. They’d been worried sick. His spark clenched again, his wings tilting downwards in regret.

He didn’t know what to say to them, other than approach and lean his head on Skywarp’s shoulder. He was soon surrounded by them both and their arms around him, minding the wings, as low as they rested. 

“We called, Star.” How small Skywarp’s voice was nearly broke him.

They didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve them.

“I’m sorry.” Was about all he could muster. He was surprised by how soft it was, how small he felt.


End file.
